My Cardboard Balcony

One, Two, Three by Belinda Roddie With the power out in patches across the bay, we could see Orion's belt slung low across his hips, the dipper scooping cosmic soup that tasted saltier than the ocean below. And there was Cassiopeia's chair, upside down as always, with her hidden silhouette hanging on for dear life. We tried counting, couldn't manage it, leaned into each other - my jacket caught both my warmth and yours. Your smell was frilled with filet mignon and apple crisp.

Spring Lasted Too Long by Belinda Roddie There you stood, seven years down the road, with pale cheeks and pink heels, looking forlorn, your finger endlessly tapping on a nearby cloud. "It's so squishy," you hummed, happy as a bumblebee, while I stood guard in a field where the sun was hot and the reeds were tall and I couldn't stop sneezing.

by Belinda Roddie "Oh, shit, man, doesn't that hurt?" "I'm fine." "C'mon, babe, lemme check it." "I'm  fine." "Dude." " What?!" "Let me look at it." "Ugh. Fine." "..." "...What?" "You look really pale, John." "Yeah, well, I don't like blood. You know that." "I get it." "No, you don't." "I do! Remember when I told you about that compound fracture I got when I was fifteen?" "...Right. When you were snowboarding?" "Yeah. Red snow everywhere. I fainted. Luckily, my dad got me back to the lodge before hypothermia kicked my ass." "...Least it makes sense." "What makes sense?" "A snowboarding accident." "As opposed to...?" "As opposed to me breaking a nail like a fucking pussy?" "Oh, John." ...